


Passing Out on the Couch

by quiet__tiger



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Smallville
Genre: Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 00:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10708575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Bruce gets Clark home, but isn't sure what to do from there.





	Passing Out on the Couch

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [Pissing in the Bushes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10708521), because I was asked to fix it.
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal Nov. 10th, 2005.

Bruce brought Clark back to the penthouse he shared with Lex. Not really sure what to do with such a distraught Superman, Bruce half-led, half-dragged Clark into the living room.

He made Clark shed the uniform, dropping it onto the floor. Bruce wasn’t sure where it should go, and Clark didn’t seem to care, so it remained crumpled in a heap next to the sofa.

Clark collapsed back onto the couch, sprawled in nothing but his jock strap. The jock had been Bruce’s suggestion; he had gotten tired of Clark’s griping over the visible boxer-brief lines under his costume.

Bruce went into the kitchen to get Clark a glass of water. High metabolism or not, Clark was bound to be dehydrated. Bruce had to roll his eyes at the rows of Tynant bottles taking up the entire bottom shelf of the refrigerator. A sure sign that Lex would be back eventually.

Grabbing a bottle, Bruce returned to the living room, where Clark was nearly passed out, but still sprawled in the same position. If he were awake and wearing a different expression, Bruce might think he was trying to seduce him. As it was, Clark looked him, his brow furrowed, and inquired, “Batman?”

Bruce glanced down; he had been so concerned for his friend that he had practically forgotten what he was wearing. It was unsettling. He opened the bottle of water and gave it to Clark. “Drink this. It’ll make you feel better.” He hoped.

Clark swallowed it all in one gulp and hiccupped. Bruce went to find the dimmer for the lights- he knew Lex had dimmers and mood lighting everywhere in the apartment- and turned them down. He sat in the chair across from the sofa and watched as Clark fell asleep. Bruce felt terrible for his friend, but he wasn’t sure what he could do to help.

He settled on finding his way to the bedroom and changing into a pair of Clark’s sweatpants and a t-shirt. He folded his costume carefully and placed it next to the chair in the living room. He had no intention of leaving Clark alone at this stage. He wasn’t sure how to help, but leaving Clark alone certainly wouldn’t. He settled for reading the magazines tastefully displayed on the coffee table between them. _TIME_. _The Wall Street Journal_. _Forbes_. And, oddly, _Good Housekeeping_. Bruce hoped that last one was Clark’s.

After reading a recipe for oatmeal raisin cookies, Bruce put the magazine down and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hours later, Bruce was awakened by the click of the front door closing. Not sure if it was someone coming or going, Bruce didn’t move except to slowly open one eye a crack. He could still see Clark on the sofa, he head now lolled to the side at an odd angle. If he weren’t invincible, he might be horribly uncomfortable once he woke up.

So if Clark was still there, then someone came into the apartment. Bruce was about to spring into a ready stance in his favored martial art, until he heard a familiar voice huskily whisper into his ear.

“Bruce. Unless you’re a pod-person, you’re awake and about three seconds away from giving me a Vulcan neck pinch. But I’m going to save you the trouble and tell you that I feel like shit and I know that I fucked up.”

Lex then came around the chair, and Bruce opened both eyes and turned to him. Lex not only felt like shit, he pretty much looked like crap, too; his tie wasn’t tied, his shirt wasn’t tucked in, and his eyes were visibly red even in the darkness. Before Bruce could speak, Lex shushed him with a raised hand. “Thank you for taking care of him. I’ll handle it from here.”

Bruce watched as Lex staggered over to the sofa; Lex wasn’t quite sober, either. He dropped onto the couch, not close to Clark but near enough that he could entwine their fingers.

Not sure that everything was fine, but certain that things were better than they were before, Bruce went back to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bruce was woken from sleep the second time by a deep groan. Eyes flying open, Bruce was greeted by the sight of Clark clutching his head. Apparently Clark could be hung over. Good to know.

He continued watching as Clark realized he couldn’t move his other hand. Clark tugged again, this time turning his head and slowly opening his eyes.

Bruce wished he had a camera on Clark, to record the moment when he realized he couldn’t move his other hand because Lex was holding it, staring at Clark with an indescribable expression.

Clark’s expression, however, turned from bewildered to angry, and he tried to snatch his hand back. Lex held on tight, not letting Clark go, though if Clark had truly wanted freedom Lex wouldn’t have been able to keep his grip.

Clark opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Lex spoke. “I’m sorry.”

Clark gaped, and Bruce would have too except he didn’t want to remind them that he was there. Lex never said he was sorry. Not seriously, anyway. It wasn’t part of his vocabulary for some reason.

Clark was either still cloudy-headed, or Lex startled him that much, because all he could reply was a thick-sounding, “Huh?”

“I said, I’m sorry. I should never have tried to force you to give up what makes you who you are. After I left, I drank a lot, which made me miserable, and I heard news reports at the bar about Superman being off his game, and I knew it was my fault. And even though I hate Superman, I love you. Enough to get over myself and accept that self-righteous jerk into my life.”

Superman wasn’t the only one off his game if Lex was using words like “jerk.”

Lex continued as Clark stared. “I was selfish. I know you’re used to that, but this time I caught myself before it was too late. I hope. I know I had to find you, and figured I should start here, in our home. And I walked in, and found you here, nearly naked, spread out on the couch, and I realized I could never leave you, no matter how much I wish you’d rearrange your priorities a bit. I love you too much.”

Clark finally had a chance to speak, and he still looked a little angry. “And you think it’s that easy? You tell me you want me back and I’m supposed to just kneel at your feet?”

For the first time since Clark had woken up, Lex averted his eyes. “I. I don’t. No.” He looked Clark in the eyes again. “If you don’t want to get back together, that’s,” Lex swallowed, “your decision. But, I hope you think it through better than I did.”

Clark scowled, and stared down into his lap. He started to pull his hand away again, and this time Lex loosened his grip, his head dejectedly dropping down.

Before Clark’s hand could slip fully free, it quickly slid back into Lex’s as Clark shifted his grip. He then jerked Lex onto his lap, and wrapped his arms around him. Resting his head on Lex’s shoulder, Clark said softly, “Of course I’ll take you back, dumbass. And I'll try to change, to make this work better.”

Bruce had to cock an eyebrow at that. No more words were spoken for a few minutes as Clark and Lex reconnected.

Eventually Clark jerked his head up, his hangover seemingly gone as he glanced around, taking in Bruce and his near-nude state. Blushing faintly, Clark said, “I should. Shower. And get dressed.”

Lex leaned over to whisper into Clark’s ear, and Bruce heard “shower,” “you,” and “make up.”

Bruce took that as his cue to leave them alone. “I think I’ll leave you two alone. Get my plane off the roof. Get back to Gotham before Dick takes advantage and reorganizes the files in the Cave.”

Before he could finish standing, Bruce found himself engulfed in a bear hug from Clark. “Thanks, Bruce. I’m sorry for everything.”

“It’s all right, Clark. Everything is okay now.” Bruce lowered his voice. “Go get yours in the shower.”

Clark grinned as he pulled back. “I always do.” A little too much information. 

As Clark and Lex headed to the bathroom, Bruce shucked out of Clark’s clothes and started putting on his costume. He heard the water start, and he couldn’t help but smile. Crisis averted, even if he didn’t do anything but listen and provide comfort. Clark and Lex had a few things to work out, and compromises to make, but it looked like they both wanted to make their relationship work.

Bruce was happy, and maybe now he wouldn't have to listen to quite as much Metropolis drama when Clark visited him in Gotham.


End file.
